C5 Blood on the northern wall

The night sky split with howls. Firelight painted the northern wall as warriors clashed steel against claw. The rogues moved with practiced precision — too precise for wild strays. Lucas knew every stance, every strike. These weren’t rogues. They were Gravelmoon men in disguise.

Vashti didn’t hesitate. Her dagger flashed as she cut through the first wave, her movements fierce and fluid, as if the Moon herself guided her hand. She fought not like a Luna chained by tradition, but like a queen carved from flame and fury.

Lucas’s chest ached just watching her. His wolf roared in approval, recognizing her strength, her fire, her… mate.

But then a Gravelmoon warrior lunged at her blind side. Instinct tore through Lucas before thought could catch up.

He slammed into the attacker, claws raking, teeth snapping. Blood sprayed hot across his face. The man dropped with a broken gurgle.

Vashti froze. For a heartbeat, her eyes locked on him — not with suspicion, but with something far sharper. Recognition.

Lucas’s breath caught. The bond between them flared, wild and undeniable, as if the battlefield itself bowed to it.

But there was no time to dwell. More Gravelmoon warriors poured through the broken gate.

“Fall back!” one of the Paxton guards shouted, panic rising.

“No!” Vashti roared, her voice carrying over the chaos. “We hold this wall. Any wolf who retreats will answer to me!”

Her command steadied her pack. They regrouped around her, forming a shield line. Lucas fell in beside her without hesitation, his claws and blade working in brutal unison.

For every warrior that came for her, he cut them down. He didn’t think. He didn’t plan. He simply couldn’t bear the thought of harm brushing against her skin.

---

Then it happened.

A Gravelmoon Beta warrior broke through the line and swung his blade for Vashti’s throat. She twisted too slow, blood already springing beneath the steel.

Lucas moved faster than instinct. He caught the blade in his palm, flesh tearing open. Pain seared up his arm, but he held firm, wrenching the sword away before it could reach her.

Vashti spun, stunned — her gaze flicking from his bleeding hand to his blazing eyes. Something passed between them in that instant, hot and unspoken.

“Why?” she demanded, breathless.

Lucas’s chest heaved, torn between truth and silence. The answer was simple. Because you’re mine. But the words caught in his throat like fire.

Instead, he growled, “Because no one touches my queen.”

Her eyes widened — and then narrowed, sharp and unreadable.

---

The battle ended as quickly as it began. The Gravelmoon warriors retreated into the night, leaving bodies and blood in their wake. Paxton wolves staggered, injured but alive, rallying around their Luna.

But Vashti’s gaze never left Lucas. Not even when healers tended her wounds. Not even when her pack awaited her orders.

Later, in the silence of the war room, she faced him across the table, her expression unreadable.

“You fight like no rogue I’ve ever seen,” she said softly. “And you bleed for me like no stranger should.”

Lucas’s jaw clenched. His hand still burned from the wound.

She leaned forward, eyes piercing his soul. “Tell me who you really are.”

Before Lucas could answer, the door burst open. A Paxton scout staggered inside, bloodied and gasping.

“My queen… they left a message carved into one of the bodies.” His voice broke. “It says: Eighty-four days.”

****************

The war room turned to ice. The scout’s words echoed like a curse.

Eighty-four days.

Vashti rose slowly, her fingers curling into fists. “What did you say?”

The scout dropped to his knees, trembling. “It was carved into the chest of one of the rogues, my queen. Deep… deliberate. For you to see.”

Whispers rippled through the gathered Paxton wolves. Fear. Suspicion. Some turned toward Lucas, their eyes narrowing, like they had already chosen the scapegoat.

Lucas’s stomach plummeted. The Alpha wasn’t just threatening him in secret anymore — he was leaving trails in blood, dragging Vashti into the game.

Vashti’s gaze swept the room, cold and commanding. “Out. All of you. Leave us.”

The warriors filed out reluctantly until only she and Lucas remained. The fire crackled between them, but its warmth couldn’t thaw the frost in her eyes.

She turned to him, voice low, sharp as a blade. “You knew.”

Lucas froze. “Knew what?”

Her jaw tightened. “The way you froze on the battlefield. The way you looked when you heard the scout’s words. You knew this wasn’t a random attack. You know who’s behind it.”

Lucas’s throat closed. His wolf screamed at him to tell her everything, to confess before the lies buried him alive. But Zoe’s terrified eyes filled his mind, her little hands bound, her cries muffled.

“I don’t,” he whispered, hating the lie even as it left his lips.

Vashti studied him for a long, suffocating silence. Then she moved closer, close enough that the mate-bond sparked like wildfire under his skin. Her voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.

“You’re hiding something. And when I find out what it is…” She leaned in, her breath brushing his ear. “…you’ll pray the Goddess shows you more mercy than I will.”

The words cut deeper than any blade. Yet beneath them, Lucas swore he heard something else. A tremor. Fear. Not for herself, but for him.

---

That night, Lucas sat alone in his quarters, his wounded hand throbbing. A scrap of parchment slid under the door.

He knew before touching it what it would say.

He opened it anyway.

“She’s waiting. Don’t disappoint me.”

His vision blurred with rage. He tore the note apart, but the truth remained. His Alpha was watching. His daughter was still in chains. And the countdown had already begun.

---

Meanwhile, in her own chambers, Vashti stared into the flames of her hearth. Her mind replayed every glance, every word, every reckless act of the so-called rogue who had bled for her without hesitation.

She should distrust him. She should push him away.

And yet…

Her hand lifted to her chest, over the place where her wolf stirred restlessly.

“Moon Goddess,” she whispered, a flicker of dread and longing tangling in her voice. “What are you binding me to?”

---

Outside, unseen by either of them, a pair of Gravelmoon spies lingered in the shadows of Paxton territory, watching the Luna’s chambers. One turned to the other and smirked.

“She’ll never see the knife coming. Not when it’s carried by the one she trusts.”

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